


Men Don't Make Passes...

by waketosleep



Series: 20/20 [1]
Category: Hawaii Five-0 (2010)
Genre: M/M, PWP, Pining, glasses fetish
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-11-30
Updated: 2010-11-30
Packaged: 2017-10-13 11:08:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,732
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/136639
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/waketosleep/pseuds/waketosleep
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Danny has reading glasses. Steve has a problem.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Men Don't Make Passes...

**Author's Note:**

> This came to me today while I was at school. Thanks to Dorothy Parker and leupagus for the title, as well as general enablement on leupagus' part. Apparently I will be writing a sequel.

When Steve walked into Five-0 headquarters after lunch, Danny was at his desk, doing paperwork that Steve had cleverly left in his in-tray. It only seemed right to go ask how things were going. Bosses who excelled at delegating still had to check on subordinates once in a while.

Steve leaned into Danny's doorway to say something witty and cutting and instead was struck speechless. Danny was hunched over his desk, his sleeves rolled up, his tie loose and his tongue poking through his lips absently as he read through a file. He was also wearing glasses, and Steve watched raptly as he reached up to adjust them on his nose a little.

After a second, Danny said, "What," without even looking up.

Steve jumped out of his slouch, his jaw snapping shut again.

"How's, uh," he tried, but he couldn't remember his endlessly clever comment anymore, because Danny was glaring at him and _glasses_. Sitting just a little way down his nose. They were black and square and thin and mesmerizing.

Danny pulled off his glasses and threw them on the desk; Steve tracked the movement with a broken heart. "How's the paperwork?" Danny asked. "It's fine, boss. _Your paperwork_ ," he said pointedly, "is proceeding at the expected pace."

"Well," said Steve, still staring at the glasses sitting on top of a folder, "keep up the, uh." He looked back up at Danny. "Yeah." He patted the doorframe absently and then backed out of Danny's office in as casual a way as he could.

***

Once the haze of confusion cleared, Steve thought he was fine. It was just the shock of seeing Danny change something about his appearance for once, that was all. No cause for alarm.

And if maybe once or twice in the following week, when he whacked off in the shower, the image of Danny in glasses and a tie and nothing else crossed his mind, well, Steve had just come to an uneasy peace with masturbating to thoughts of Danny a month ago. He could only really handle so many sexual crises at once. Surely he could safely ignore just an inkling of a glasses fetish. He'd always appreciated the sexy librarian type.

But when Danny came into his office one morning, his glasses sitting low enough on his nose to see over them, and left Steve with a pile of finished paperwork and a burgeoning semi, it was maybe time to admit that there was an issue to be addressed.

He waited until after lunch, when they were in the car and going to see a suspect about a horse, to broach the topic with Danny.

"So," he said, grasping for a roundabout way to say it and failing, "you've got glasses."

Danny turned his head slowly to stare at Steve. "Your detective skills are coming along really nicely, McGarrett."

Steve flipped him off, his eyes on the road as they came to a light. "They're new, right? I mean, you weren't wearing any and now I see them all the time." He might have been babbling; he took a corner hard enough to make Danny grab for the dashboard and passenger door, to make up for it.

"Where did you learn how to _drive_?" Danny shouted. "No, they're not new. I've had them for months. I just didn't wear them."

Steve blinked. "Why not?"

Danny muttered something.

"Speak up," said Steve, taking another corner a little too fast just for the hell of it.

"Fuck you," said Danny. "They kind of make me feel old, okay?" He ran a hand through his hair and glared out the windshield. "That red sign up there indicates that you should be slowing to a stop," he added, pointing.

"Thanks, Mom," said Steve. "You were embarrassed that you can't see things?"

"I think reading glasses are for old people. I'm thirty-six. It's depressing, that and my fucked-up knee. Grace is going to be visiting me in a home and buying me walker accessories before she's done college."

"And your grey hair," added Steve, like the sneaky silver threads hiding in the blond at Danny's temples didn't make his collar itch a little.

"Every single one of those is your fault, that's definitely premature. But anyway, I had them and didn't wear them, and then one day Grace said I read the newspaper like Grandpa. I realized that I am in fact becoming my father and soon my arm won't be long enough to read anymore, and that scared me into wearing the damn things." He sighed. "Happy?"

Steve thought about it. "Yes," he said, shifting into fourth as they hit the freeway. Because he was an idiot and the joy of exceeding fifty-five in a Camaro did things to his brain, he followed that up with, "They look really good on you, you know."

He immediately bit his lip and kept his eyes firmly fixed on the road, his thoughts turning to a mantra of _shitshitshitshitshit_. Danny was silent. Steve refused to look over at him, did not want to know what he looked like right at that moment.

"Thanks," said Danny, as if Steve had not just complimented his appearance and used way too many words to do it.

***

Steve didn't know if the universe hated him and wanted him to suffer, or if it was just Danny being a fucker, but Danny started wearing his glasses around the office about eight thousand percent more often. If he walked into a room one more time to see Danny with his feet kicked up on a desk, his tie loose around his neck and his glasses on, he was pretty sure he'd have to start carrying around a binder to hold in front of himself. It was torture.

"Danny, you look so distinguished. What's that word?" said Kono. " _Learned_." She said it as two syllables, a giant grin on her face. Danny winked at her.

"Maybe he's Superman," said Chin from where he sat at the computer. "The glasses are protecting his secret identity."

"I think we've got enough muscle around here," said Danny. "I can't lie, I just want to look smart. The ladies love it."

And then he looked up at Steve and grinned.

Steve laughed hollowly along with Chin and Kono and then went to hide in his office. He was going to go fucking crazy.

***

Victor Hesse came back and tried to kill them all one by one and then blow up their office building; Chin and Kono got the drop on him after two days and Steve took the opportunity to punch him in the face several times while Danny watched. Once Hesse was carted off by men in suits to never be seen again, they all went out and got trashed. Kono and Chin decided after a while that a club on the boardwalk was in order; Danny just laughed when they invited him along and Steve shrugged, comfortable where he was, with beer and Danny and no Lady Gaga slamming his eardrums to pieces. Maybe he was getting old.

But when Chin and Kono left the bar, Danny looked over at Steve with his beer bottle against his lips, the corner of his mouth pulling up a little and his eyes speculative. Steve would have been mad that he was being fucked with so thoroughly but heat was washing through him from head to toe instead.

"Want to--" he started, and Danny interrupted him.

"Yes."

They got a cab from a lineup down the street and Danny slid his hand up Steve's thigh as the cab pulled away from the curb.

"Jesus," Steve hissed, grabbing Danny's wrist.

Danny laughed, low and hoarse, the sound going straight to Steve's dick. "It was kinda hot, watching you rearrange Hesse's face," he said into Steve's ear.

Steve took a shaky breath and wrenched his eyes open again. "You're sick, getting off on that," he said breathlessly.

"Well, I had to watch you almost die once today, so maybe my baseline's a little fucked up. Deal with it." Danny's fingers crept up Steve's inseam. "I mean, I don't complain about the weird shit that you get off on."

"Like what?" Steve protested, although not as strongly as he would have liked, because Danny's fingers were ghosting over his crotch now and he was shifting his hips to improve the contact (although he hadn't let go of Danny's wrist yet).

"'Like what', he says. You're a hot mess, McGarrett." Danny's lips were on his earlobe; Steve tightened his grip on Danny's wrist involuntarily.

They pulled up in front of Steve's house about a minute later, before Steve could come in his pants, and he tipped the driver a lot in appreciation of that before dragging Danny out of the car by his wrist.

Danny kicked the front door of the house shut behind them and Steve immediately pushed him up against it. "God," he said against Danny's mouth.

Danny made a noise that was probably agreement or maybe laughing at him, and then stuck his tongue down Steve's throat. Steve didn't register that they had started moving again until Danny shoved at his chest and he fell back over the arm of the couch; he blinked up at the ceiling in shock, his heart racing and his hands empty of Danny's ass. Danny cocked his head and frowned down at him before taking pity and moving to straddle his legs.

"Fuck, Danny." Steve's hands found Danny's ass again.

Danny started undoing his belt and fly for him. "Tell me how long you've wanted this," he said.

Steve grabbed Danny's tie, hanging down over his stomach, and used it to reel Danny in for another kiss.

Danny broke away and his hand stilled on Steve's zipper. "Tell me," he repeated; his eyes were dark and unmoving from Steve's face.

"I..." he started, and Danny reached into his boxers to take his cock in hand.

"Today?" he asked, stroking once. "A week?" He pumped his fist again, squeezing a little.

Steve's breath hitched and he wound the tie around his hand, keeping Danny bent low over his chest.

"A month?" asked Danny mercilessly.

"God," Steve breathed. "Longer."

Danny's hand stopped moving and Steve wanted to take it back; he held his breath and stared helplessly up at the dark light fixture on the ceiling.

"You are such a fucking idiot," Danny hissed, leaning down to kiss the hell out of him.

Steve was just starting to relax into it again when Danny shifted away and got off the couch. He kept his eyes on Steve's face as he unknotted his wrinkled tie, dropped it on the coffee table, and started undoing his shirt buttons.

"Get with the program," he said as he pulled his shirt off.

Steve blinked, but he was good at following orders so he sat up and hauled his t-shirt off over his head; he tossed it across the room to parts unknown and then arched his hips off of the couch cushion to get his pants off the rest of the way.

He barely got a glimpse of Danny standing naked in his dark living room before Danny shoved him back down and crawled up his body, lowering himself until their cocks moved alongside each other. Steve made a choked-off noise of pleasure and Danny sighed into his shoulder.

"I don't suppose you keep condoms or anything in your living room," said Danny, shifting against him and making him groan.

"That was an oversight on my part," Steve managed.

"Well," said Danny, "I don't want to move right now." He hooked an arm over the back of the couch and braced his other hand next to Steve's head, and thrust his hips against Steve's.

Steve watched Danny's eyes flutter shut and something shifted inside him; he reached between them, his knuckles brushing Danny's stomach, and wrapped his hand around both of them.

"Yes," Danny gasped as Steve pumped his fist. His arms trembled with trying to keep himself braced above Steve, his eyes shut and his hair falling over his face.

Steve reached up with his free hand to take Danny's arm, braced his foot on the couch and tipped Danny onto his side, shoving his back against the back of the couch. His arm stretched out behind Steve's head.

Danny blinked. "You just ninja-moved me in the middle of sex?" he said. "Is this something you do a lot?"

Steve palmed the head of Danny's cock to see his mouth drop open soundlessly. "It works on all the girls," he said.

"I think you made up the name 'Smooth Dog' yourself," said Danny, before grabbing the back of Steve's head and kissing him again.

Steve laughed into Danny's mouth but it turned to a moan when Danny threw a leg over his hip and bucked hard against him. They rocked into each other, breathing hard and making soft noises against each other's lips, as Steve worked them. Danny reached down to wrap his hand around Steve's, tangling their fingers together, and Steve pressed his nose into Danny's cheek. Danny came first, silently, tensing and digging his fingers into Steve's shoulder hard enough to bruise. Steve watched him, unable to breathe.

"Come on, come on," Danny whispered against his chin, rubbing his thumb over the head of Steve's cock.

"Danny," Steve gasped as he came.

Danny kissed him down from it and Steve managed only a vague thought toward cleaning up before he fell asleep with Danny crowded up against his chest.

***

Nothing much changed, although Steve had been sure it would. They still went to work and caught bad guys and Danny bitched a lot about Steve's methods while Chin and Kono rolled their eyes a lot. They had beers after work as a team and occasionally co-opted Danny's time with Grace on the weekends to double as her uncles and aunt and spoil her rotten. But now if Steve caught himself staring at Danny, Danny would just raise an eyebrow and then wink or smile back. Sometimes Danny went home with Steve after work and stayed until the next morning. Sometimes he'd just lay a hand on Steve's shoulder or the small of his back for no reason, and leave it there for a while. Sometimes Steve reciprocated (but he was never staying over at Danny's fucking apartment).

And sometimes Steve would go into Danny's office and see him wearing his stupid fucking glasses and stop dead in his tracks. Danny would look up at him and smirk and give him an infuriatingly smug look over the top of his glasses, and Steve would need to shield his crotch with something like he was fifteen again.

"You do that on purpose," Steve accused, moving quickly to the couch in Danny's office.

"Do what?" Danny asked, like butter wouldn't melt in his mouth.

"Look at me like that," said Steve. "You're such a bitch."

"Steve McGarrett and his naughty glasses fetish," mocked Danny, and then, still looking at Steve, he reached up and slowly pulled off his glasses.

Steve bit his lip.

"What do you think if tonight I just wear the glasses?" he asked, holding them in front of him by the arm and grinning rakishly.

Steve glared. "I hate you."

Danny kept grinning at him and his tongue poked out for a second before he stuck the end of the glasses arm into his mouth; Steve saw his teeth press against it.

"Ngh," he managed, unable to tear his eyes away.

Danny laughed and pulled it out of his mouth. "You're so predictable," he said. "And lame."

"You're a tease," accused Steve.

"Only until five." Danny stuck his glasses arm back between his teeth, but absently this time (not that this improved Steve's situation any). He opened a desk drawer and pulled out a binder, holding it out and wiggling it in the air. "Take a walk, I'm busy right now," he said, still with that unashamedly evil look in his eyes.

Steve reached out and grabbed the binder, holding it in front of himself as he got up.

"You'll pay for that later," he said as he made his walk of shame toward the door (and probably the bathroom, in a second).

Danny just chuckled; Steve caught sight of him putting his glasses back on before he walked out.

 

THE END


End file.
